


The Resolution of all the Fruitless Searches

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Also I Forgot What Was In Stan's Letter, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And I Did Stan Dirty By Keeping Him Dead, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Sorry Stan, The Movie Should Have Let Them Hug, i feel bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: After Richie saves Eddie, Eddie does some soul searching and realizes he's not happy with his current situation. He seeks to fix that immediately.





	The Resolution of all the Fruitless Searches

**Author's Note:**

> Another fix it fic. Because I said I would write it and write it I did so leave me a comment if you can and thank you for taking the time to read 😊
> 
> Bye!!!

Everything happened fast.

The deadlights caught Richie mid-sentence, rising him into the air, and Eddie acted. He fucked up earlier with Spiderstan, he wasn’t going to do it again. Richie needed him to do something.

So Eddie acted, throwing Bev’s fence post at Pennywise. She told him it killed monsters if he believed, and even if he had to be the fucking Peter Pan of murdering alien clowns he was fully prepared to believe in anything.

He hit Pennywise, listened to It’s screams, had convinced himself that he had killed it. He had destroyed Derry’s biggest bully. He killed it, saved Richie, helped the losers, avenged Stan. He did it.

Him.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

Somewhere deep down he knew he should have made sure, but Richie was more important. He turned, running towards Richie’s prone form, afraid he hadn’t been quick enough, but he breathed a relieved sigh when he saw him disoriented but awake.

“Rich, I killed it!” he shouted, hovering over him and reaching for his shoulders. He told himself it was to help him up, but deep down Eddie knew the truth. He wanted to touch Richie and make sure he really was okay.

Richie met him halfway and suddenly he was falling. He landed heavily on top of Richie, his hands gripping Eddie’s shoulders tightly, and he rolled them out of the way just as of one of Pennywise’s spider claws slammed into the ground. They stop behind a rock, Richie pinning Eddie to the ground, and for a few tense seconds they were just staring at each other, breathing heavily.

Eddie felt dizzy, and not entirely because of his and Richie’s little tumble. He hadn’t been this close to Richie since coming back to Derry. His heart sped up. He was close enough to kiss him if he were bold enough to do it. Nothing could stop him except Richie himself, and from the look in his eyes Eddie had a feeling he wouldn’t; probably.

He mentally shook himself, knowing it was an outlandish idea. He really shouldn’t be thinking about that anyway; at least not right now. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Pennywise was apparently still alive.

He also had Myra to think about; his wife. The same wife he knew he didn’t love, not even a little, and now that he returned to Derry had now realized he married because she reminded him of his mother. She’d been familiar. The only thing he had left to cling to from his childhood.

He felt sick.

_Shit_.

The moment was broken by their friends calling their names and Richie rolled off of Eddie and stood up. He reached down, offering him a hand, and Eddie hesitated for a beat before taking it. Richie pulled him to his feet, squeezing his hand gently, and then let him go and joined their friends.

Eddie looked at his palm for just a second before curling it into a fist and running after him.

* * *

Eddie watched Niebolt collapse into itself. It’s finally over; they won. Around him the others stood in a tight group, a gentle breeze ruffling their dirty hair. The tension that had settled over them since Mike called seemed to dissipate. They were free.

“What do we do now?” Ben asked, voicing everyone’s thoughts, and everybody shrugged.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Bev suggested.

“I have a stab wound,” Eddie replied mechanically.

“We were underground for a while, Eds,” Richie said, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder. “You probably already have an infection.”

Eddie turned to look at him and narrowed his eyes.

Richie grinned.

“Ass,” Eddie muttered.

The others laughed and suddenly they all felt 13 again.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Bill suggested and everyone agreed, heading back towards Ben and Mike’s cars.

* * *

They ended up at the reservoir.

It was ridiculous.

They were all 40, they shouldn’t be jumping off a fucking cliff into the lake, but each and every one of the guys followed Bev’s lead and plummetted into the freezing water.

It was an eventful swim. Richie lost his stupid glasses in the water (more fuzzy memories fluttered back into Eddie’s mind of Richie constantly losing them when they were kids); Ben and Bev kissed after managing to find them; they were yelled at by a police officer.

The ride back to the inn was quiet. Eddie sat in the backseat of Ben’s car with Richie, water seeping into Ben’s rental’s leather seats. The radio played a pop song from the 90s. Bev sang along softly, bobbing her head to the music, and Ben kept looking at her like she hung the moon. Eddie felt a pang in his chest.

He looked over at Richie. Studied him closely. His head was leaning against the window, his eyes closed, but Eddie could tell he wasn’t asleep. His fingers were tapping against his knee, the beat rapid and uneven. A nervous habit, one he’d had even since they were kids, and Eddie suspected only a few things could get him to stop.

His fingers twitched as he reached out and gently touched Richie’s wrist. His tapping immediately stopped. A tension settled between them, and Eddie thought about pulling his hand away before he made the situation worse.

Slowly, as if offering him a choice, Richie turned his hand palm up and waited. Eddie could feel him trembling next to him and he suspected it had little to do with the wet clothing clinging to his skin.

Myra floated around in the back of his head. His wife; his mother reincarnated. He curled his lip, shoving that mess away for now.

Perhaps forever.

He really should let Richie go; it’d be the right thing to do; and had he been a better man he probably would have.

He slid his hand into Richie’s, linking their fingers together, and they sat like that for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Much later, after several long showers and a celebratory dinner, Eddie sat on the inn’s fire escape, looking up at the stars. He had a flight scheduled back to New York tomorrow afternoon. He suspected Myra probably tried to report him missing, and he knew he should call her and let her know he was okay, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

A huge part of him didn’t even want to go back.

“You okay?” Bev settled down next to him, offering him half of her blanket.

Eddie shrugged, sliding over a bit to give her room.

“Richie’s looking for you,” she said pulling her cigarettes out of her pocket.

“I figured.” Eddie might be avoiding him, but only a little bit.

“He’s leaving in the morning.” She tapped the pack against her hand but didn’t shake one free. “I think he wants to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s heart hurt at the idea of Richie leaving. What happened if they forgot each other again? He’d just gotten Richie back, his presence filling a hole in his chest he’d had for the past twenty years. He hated to think about that hollow pit returning.

Bev put her cigarettes away and she put her arm around Eddie’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but he understood what she’d been trying to convey. He and Bev were in similar situations, but she’d chosen a new path for herself, carving it from the mess Pennywise’s influence had forced her into by erasing her memories.

And Eddie.

Eddie could do the same, but the overwhelming guilt and fear he felt left him unsure if that was the right decision. He was dealing with these newly discovered feelings he didn’t really understand; feelings he wasn’t sure were requited. Add the fact that however he felt, and whatever that meant for him, he still had to deal with Myra.

Divorce didn’t scare him, he’d thought about it plenty of times in the past year, but Myra had the tendency to cling. A lot like his mother.

He could not believe he married a woman just like his mother.

Or maybe he could.

“Bev, what do I do?” he asked looking at her desperately.

“I don’t know,” she replied, squeezing him tightly.

He nodded.

They sat outside for a while, but when they both began shivering it was time to go back inside. Eddie held the door open for Beverly and walked her to her room. She gave him another hug, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into her room.

Eddie leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands. They won. They beat Pennywise. They were supposed to be free, but he felt more trapped than he ever did before returning to Derry.

“Hey.”

He lowered his hands, sighing.

“Hey Rich.”

Richie stood at the top of the stairs, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. He looked tired, but Eddie figured he didn’t look any better. It’d been a very stressful few days; they all deserved a nice long rest.

“You okay?” Richie asked taking a step towards Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie replied shrugging.

“I get what you mean.”

“Bev said you’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Eddie said, swiftly changing the subject.

Richie stopped, running a hand through his hair. He nodded. “Uh, yeah. My manager called. I guess me yelling at that kid is all over Twitter. I have to assess the situation, see if my career is salvageable. Especially since the kid kinda got…” he ran a thumb across his neck, making a squelching sound. “You know.”

“Nice visual, Rich,” Eddie retorted shaking his head.

Richie shrugged. “There’s no nice way to put it, Eds. You heard how Bill described it. That kid is definitely-”

“I know.”

An awkward silence settled over them.

“Well, just in case I don’t see you tomorrow morning…”

Eddie stepped forward to shake Richie’s hand or maybe give him a hug, he wasn’t sure, but he froze when Richie said:

“Come with me.”

Eddie shuffled back a step, taken aback. “What?”

“Come with me,” Richie repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, you don’t want to go back to Myra, do you? The way you talk about her, it’s obvious you don’t…” he trailed off.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me say it, Eds,” Richie said softly, sounding far too serious. Richie Tozier had never been serious a day in his life. Not really. The only time he’d ever come close, he’d been yelling at Bill after they escaped Niebolt the very first time.

“Say what, Richie?”

“Eds, come on. You have to realize who she really is…”

“My mother? Right? She’s basically my mother. Say it, Richie. Say it. I married my mother…”

“Eddie…”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. “We can’t all be famous comedians, gallavanting around the country, fucking every woman who shows the slightest bit of interest.”

Richie huffed, turning away from Eddie. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Then enlighten me, Richie. I am all ears.”

“Forget it.” Richie put his hands up, walking away. “Forget I said anything.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and he had this intense fear that this could be the very last time he ever saw Richie. This fight could be the last words they ever spoke to each other, and he could not have that; he wouldn’t.

He hurried forward, grabbing Richie’s arm to stop him, and said, “Wait, Rich! I’m, I’m sorry, okay?”

Richie tensed up at the sudden contact, but he nodded. “Me too.”

“Look, I just…” he let out a frustrated breath. “I can’t go with you.” _No_ _matter_ _how_ _much_ I _want_ _to_, he added silently. “I have…”

_What? What do you have? A loveless marriage? A condo you hate? A business you could easily pick up and move anywhere? _ _What, exactly, is stopping you from going with him?_

The answer was obvious.

Eddie sighed and slowly pulled Richie into a hug, giving him plenty of time to push him away if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Instead, he hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his hair.

This hug felt very different than the one he shared with Beverly. They clung to each other, afraid of the moment they parted. Either one of them could have died in that house, buried beneath the rubble, but they managed to survive. They were standing here, together, and that had to count for something.

Richie broke the hug first, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against Eddie’s. He closed his eyes, breathing unevenly, and brought his hands up to cup the sides of his neck.

He released him completely a moment later, taking a step back and giving him a brittle smile, and said, “You ever change your mind, the offer stands.”

“Okay,” Eddie murmured, numbly nodding.

“See ya around, Eds.”

The moment Richie disappeared into his room, Eddie sagged against the wall and let out a ragged breath. It took physical effort to walk towards his own room, but he still looked back at Richie’s door.

“See you around, Rich.”

* * *

The losers don’t forget him, and Eddie doesn’t forget them either. They kept in contact, filling him in on any new memories they get back, letting him know what they've been up to, and he does the same. It’s surreal, going from practically no friends to six really close friends in the span of a few weeks.

Eddie liked it.

Bev texted him the most. She asked how he was doing, asked about the Myra situation, recommended the lawyer she used when she divorced Tom. _That_ _is_, she added in her most recent text, _if_ _you_ _need_ _a_ _lawyer_.

Eddie tried to not think about that; something that had become easier when he started avoiding Myra. That should have been his biggest clue that he’d be better off taking Bev’s advice, but he’s still a little in denial.

Ben, Bill, and Mike weren’t nearly as social as Bev, but they kept sending him a steady stream of updates. Whatever Ben didn’t share Eddie heard from Bev, they were together after all, and Bill promised to be better at texting the moment he finished his movie. Mike had been busy packing, he had twenty years worth of traveling to do, but he did mention a letter from Stan that would be arriving in the mail soon. Eddie spent a week afterward obsessively checking the mail. What could Stan have to say from beyond the grave? Hopefully it’s advice.

Richie texted occasionally, but Eddie knew they were courtesy texts. A way to let him know he was alive and not lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Eddie typed out long-winded text after text, complaining about the complete lack of updates in Richie’s life, but he deleted each one before he could send them. He had enough to worry about without butting into Richie’s life.

The day Stan’s letter came, Myra managed to corner Eddie in the kitchen. She wanted to have breakfast together, claimed they haven’t seen each other in a while (which wasn’t completely false), and Eddie only agreed so she’d stop asking.

Eddie poked at his food while Myra talked about her sister. He wasn’t really listening, more preoccupied thinking about Stan’s letter (he had always been the most observant loser) and Richie.

Mostly Richie.

“Eddie bear, are you listening to me?” Myra asked and Eddie looked up at her, furrowing his brow.

“What? Uh, yeah. Yeah I’m…”

What was he doing?

This wasn’t fair to either him or Myra.

He shouldn’t be here.

He didn’t belong here.

He belonged somewhere else.

WIth someone else.

This wasn’t fair.

“Myra, I think we should get a divorce,” he said and stood up.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m, I’m not sure this is working out.”

He carried his plate to the sink. He turned to see Myra gaping wordlessly at him and he nodded, heading down the hall towards their bedroom.

“Eddie!” she hurried after him, stopping in the doorway. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, Myra, I don’t love you and I can’t keep pretending,” he responded calmly, dragging his suitcase out of the closet and throwing it on the bed. “It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Is this because you stopped taking your medication?” she asked crossing her arms. “I told you it wasn’t good for you to stop…”

“Myra, just, just stop.” Eddie continued to pack his stuff, keeping his tone even. “You can have the condo and the car, and honestly anything you want. It’s all yours. I don’t want any of it.” He looked down at the ring on his finger and pulled it off. He held it out to her and she absentmindedly took it.

“Why are you doing this?” she repeated, curling her hand around the ring.

“I told you…” he trailed off, sighing. “I’ve been lying to you and myself for years. I don’t love you, okay, and I don’t think I ever did.” He finished packing, zipping the suitcase closed, and turned to finally look at Myra. “I’m sorry.”

“Is there somebody else?” she demanded as he carried his bag to the door. He picked up Stan’s letter on the way and tucked it into his pocket.

“Maybe,” Eddie replied honestly, pulling the door open. “Hopefully,” he added and dragged his suitcase out the door.

“Where are you going?” Myra asked from the doorway.

Eddie sighed. “I have some stuff I need to do. I’ll call you.”

“Eddie!”

He kept walking, already looking to see if a Lyft was nearby. He had an entire car ride to the airport to find a decent enough flight to Los Angeles.

* * *

Richie’s career took a hit, but he’d been able to smooth a few things over and it wasn’t completely dead. _Small_ _favors_, he reasoned.

He’d just finished up his remaining shows, and the moment he stepped into his apartment he fell face first onto his couch.

He won’t admit it, but he’d been moping around for the past few weeks, thinking about Eddie. He had been 100% serious when he asked him to come back to LA with him; he’d been prepared for the rejection but it still hurt when Eddie said no.

He wondered what Eddie was doing right now. He knew he could text him and ask, but he’d been increasingly vague in every text he’d sent since leaving Derry. He knew Eddie would get suspicious if he was suddenly asking about his life.

Maybe a part of him didn’t want to know; that’s always a possibility too.

And most likely the truth.

Okay definitely the truth.

He was a mess.

His phone buzzed on his coffee table and Richie cracked open an eye, staring at it accusingly. It couldn’t be his manager, he didn’t have anything scheduled (as far as he knew). It could be one of the losers, Bev had been texting him a lot and she’d promised to call sometime today. Maybe it’s her.

He sat up, picking up the phone, and stared at the screen.

His heart sped up.

Eddie.

Warily, he answered the phone. “Eds?”

_“Are you home?”_

“What?”

Eddie sighed. _“I said, are you home? You better be otherwise I flew out to this smog infested hellhole for nothing.”_

Richie’s breath hitched when he heard a knock at the door. He scrambled up, hurrying across the room, and wrenched the door open. He dropped his phone.

“Eddie,” he breathed, hardly believing his eyes.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie said hanging up his cell phone and shoving it in his back pocket. “Does that offer still stand?”

Mutely, Richie nodded and stumbled forward, pulling Eddie into a hug. Just like their last hug, they clung to each other, both afraid that if they let the other go he would disappear into the ether.

When they broke apart, Richie stared at Eddie with a fond smile and asked, “I’m awake, right?”

Eddie reached out and pinched him.

“Ow.”

“Awake enough?”

Richie snorted but nodded. He stepped back to let Eddie into his apartment, helping him drag his suitcase into the foyer. The moment he shut his door, he gestured to his living room, and said, “So, I guess this is…”

“Wait.”

“What?” Richie looked over at him expectantly.

“Can we do one thing before you give me the tour of what is possibly the most disgusting apartment imaginable?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Cool.”

He kissed him.

When they broke apart, Richie looked down at his feet, his lip curling into a coy smile, and he said, "Do it again."

Grinning, Eddie obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel.


End file.
